Apocalypse King: Recruiting S-Tier Beauties With My Ruler System-Chapter 32: Stage Two - Brutal Beatdown

Wang Yun died. His scream hadn't even faded when the fat zombie snapped its greasy lips shut around him with a disgusting crunch, and now all that remained was a wet slop echoing down its throat.

I couldn't look away or blink, almost in shock.

The fat zombie had torn itself open and swallowed him like he was a bag of noodles.

Snapping out of my confusion thanks to Roulan tapping my shoulder, I couldn't let myself rest any longer. My body started moving, brain screamed orders that something dangerous was about to come and that I needed to fight. I had to fight.

I vaulted onto the hood of a car, then rolled across to the minivan beside it, claiming onto the roof, which groaned under my weight.

My body sank into the metal but remained balanced.

The monster was growing again.

Its gut split wider, bones shifting, height stretching by the second. Its breath rolled out in hot clouds that stank like melting tires and rotting pork.

This was it.

[Evolution to Rank 4 Available. Begin process?]

[Warning: Subject will be paralysed for 27.3 seconds.]

I slammed the metal "yes" so hard it felt like I got vertigo, annoyed by the specific number of seconds as if someone were playing with me.

Immediately after, pain hit me like an electric sledgehammer.

The taste of copper spread through my mouth, as a searing pain crept up my throat. I fell to one knee, holding the van's roof, gasping as heat and pressure rushed through my chest, my limbs locked in place, adding meaning to the paralysis mentioned.

I could see the fat zombie recovering ahead of me. Its tiny eyes were covered with plump fat, likely affecting the bastard's vision, but the zombie snarled and turned—sniffing the air like a dog. It was Sensing.

"Roulan!" I shouted.

She spun from her position near the collapsed building, eyes wide, her tonfa raised.

"What the hell are you doing up there?!"

"I need you to stall it!"

Her brows lifted, furrowing before she flashed me a middle finger. "Stall it?! What do you mean, stall it? You're not even—are you Hurt?" The voice cracked into one of concern from her harsh scolding.

"Yeah," I hissed. "Voluntarily. But trust me. My body is... adapting. I just need thirty seconds."

"Oh yeah, you just need thirty seconds." Roulan's jaw clenched. "You're joking, right, right now? Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

"I don't get to pick the perfect moment!"

"You're choosing the worst one!"

"I know!"

She looked like she wanted to cuff me to a wall and beat me down with her tonfa. But she didn't.

Instead, she exhaled sharply through her nose, took two slow steps before running forward, then turned her head slightly and shouted, "You better not die, John! You hear me?! You survive, or I'm going to kill you myself!"

"Deal," I rasped through gritted teeth.

Then she was off—sprinting toward the mutant.

Her legs were long and powerful, all lean muscle from years of training. The moment her tonfa struck the zombie's side, it bellowed loud enough to shake the glass in the nearby buildings.

And I—helpless on the van roof—watched the only woman crazy enough to fight this thing for me, throwing herself straight into its jaws with a violent super kick.

*** Roulan ***

"Are you out of your damn mind!?"

My voice echoed down to him—but John didn't move. Didn't twitch. He just crouched there on top of the van, eyes squeezed shut, breathing rough, face frozen like he was fighting a war inside his skull.

"John!"

Nothing.

The monster gave me no more time.

The ground shook from the brute's movements, its heavy feet stomping the ground with each step. With a grotesque stomach hanging open, the stench of rotten flesh and stomach acid soured the air, but I held my breath and stepped forward.

"You better not die on me, you little shit."

It would suck if the only handsome guy around me right now died.

I snapped both tonfa out from my belt, the steel rods gleaming in the twilight. The Brute lurched, its enormous hands dragging along the ground like a gorilla. Not fast, but every footstep made the ground rock beneath my feet.

I exhaled and charged.

Clang!

The first blow hit me like a freight truck. I managed to duck the swing, but the shockwave from its sheer strength lifted my feet. I flew back and smashed into the hood of a nearby car.

"F—ck!"

A stabbing pain exploded through my ribs.

I could taste our meal and the whiskey.

The impact dazed me, but I forced myself up. My arm trembled while wincing slightly from the pain, but I bit down and endured. I am an officer of the law. My job is to protect and serve! I couldn't afford to stay down—not with him watching.

Not when such a handsome young man depended on me!

"You've grown soft, Jiang Roulan," I muttered to myself, shaking the cobwebs loose. "What happened to the woman who wrestled a meth-head with a cleaver for two hours in a stairwell?"

The Brute charged again.

I sidestepped and dragged it between two broken-down sedans using my tonfa, then dived through a gap in the wreckage. The thing followed—but slowly. Its bulk couldn't navigate the tight corners. I struck from the side—bam, right under the arm.

Its skin rippled. Didn't break.

Goddamn apocalypse bullshit.

I kept moving, ducking behind a scorched motorcycle and striking at the lumps' huge legs.

A shallow blow—useless. The thing roared and turned, flattening the bike with a backhanded swing. I rolled sideways just in time, my boot scraping against broken glass.

My ankle throbbed with pain from the blow, and I could barely stand, my thighs screaming like doing cardio after a leg day. But I kept moving.

He was still up there. Not even a peep, silent. Unmoving.

Damn him.

He saved me when I first met him, then when we were being held hostage. It was John who brought the zombies and broke the situation. Not me. He didn't even blame us or ask for thanks even after getting hurt.

Now he was sitting there, asking me to buy him time... time felt so slow, but he trusted me.

I did nothing to help him, but in this crumbling world. He trusted me.

"Idiot," I muttered, smacking the Brute in the side of the skull with a downward strike. "Why does thinking about him make me feel so irritated?"

The Brute snarled and lunged. I leapt over the hood of a rusted taxi, then brought both tonfa down onto its wrist when it tried to reach me.

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Crunch!

It shrieked—and for a second and seemed in pain. I thought I'd broken something.

But then it backhanded me again, and I skidded across the ground, breath knocked out of my lungs.

I coughed. My vision was shaking and blurry, as if I needed glasses. A bittersweet copper taste filled my mouth, and my hair was now a mess.

"John..." I looked up at the van. The faintest shimmer of steam rose from his back like a boiler about to burst.

And somehow, even in all this noise, he looked peaceful.

I gripped the tonfa again and rose.